Thrifty
by pokeitlikejello
Summary: House and Cuddy take a weekend to attend a convention in a cabin resort in PA. Little do they know, Cuddy will be involved in an accident to which House will have to go to extremes to attempt to save her life.
1. This Way

**This is a multi chapter, dramatic fic. At least, it will be within the next few chapters. Please read, enjoy, and review. Thanks :o)**

* * *

Cuddy sat by the window, sitting next to a man who was nice enough, but not somebody she wanted to spend more than a few days with. As of late, however, she had sex on the brain and figured she could get into his pants, given the right amount of flirting and the right amount of breast reveal by leaning in close and slightly forward.

His name was Josh Claybourne and he worked at a hospital in New York. Cuddy figured she'd rather sit by him than House as they rode on a shuttle bus to the resort. Cuddy had accepted the invitation on behalf of House and herself for a conference in Pennsylvania. It was a weekend event full of diagnostic information and evaluations of tough medical cases. Cuddy thought House would enjoy it, which was the only reason she accepted.

"It's always tough making those kinds of decisions." Josh finished what he was saying and Cuddy hadn't realized that she wasn't listening.

"Right." Cuddy agreed, smiling at him and leaning down just a touch.

"I've been meaning to ask you." Josh started, "What's it like working with Gregory House?"

"A wet dream."

Cuddy looked up as House came limping toward her and Josh. She glared at his comment, which caused him to only look at her with pleasure. House bent towards Josh and raised his hand, exaggerating the gesture of telling him a secret.

"All the sex you can get." House made sure Cuddy could hear him.

Josh looked to Cuddy, who gave him an apologetic smile, shaking her head, "We don't have sex."

"As I was sitting in my seat." House began his story, pressing down on his cane to keep his balance as the bus moved, "I suddenly remembered that the lab called about your chlamydia test and I _completely_ forgot to give you the results."

"Excuse me a moment." Josh stood and slipped by House, heading to the back of the shuttle.

House immediately took the now open seat next to a glaring Cuddy.

"You're a pig." she told him.

"The test was negative, by the way." House picked up his cane and threw it down across his lap and Cuddy's, making sure to hit Cuddy's legs harshly.

Cuddy flinched in response, "House!"

"Sorry." House acted as if he was remorseful, "I didn't want to trip someone in the aisle."

House picked up his cane and extended it out into the aisle, causing an older gentleman to stumble on it and almost fall to the floor. The gentleman glared and continued walking to his seat.

"Sorry!" House called after him and then pointed to Cuddy, "Against my vivid protests, _she _told me to put my cane the aisle!"

House looked back over at Cuddy, who had since stopped glaring because she knew it was pointless because House didn't care whether she glared or not.

"Are you pleased with yourself?" Cuddy asked him.

House was about to reply when the shuttle bus stopped. House leaned over Cuddy, peering out the window, making sure to "accidentally" rub his head against her breasts in the process.

"That's where we're staying?" House was disgusted.

Cuddy followed his lead and looked out the window as well. There was a semi large two story log cabin in front of them. A forest surrounded it, indicating they were in the middle of no where. A few doctors were already making their way to the front door. Cuddy pushed House away from her and stood.

"Let's go." Cuddy commanded and half pulled House to his feet.

Once they were off the bus, they picked up their suitcases from the storage area and headed towards the front door. House had a hell of a time walking up hill over gravel and made sure Cuddy was in hell with him by continuously trying to trip her with his cane. Cuddy had half a mind to leave House to make his way alone, but knew it would be worse for her if she went ahead without him.

They entered the front door and House dropped his bag on the ground. He looked around to see antlers and stuffed deer heads hanging on the walls. There was a sitting area with leather couches and chairs placed around a fire. Opposite it was a bar. There was a large desk in front to check in and on the far right was a staircase leading to the second floor where a balcony overlooked the first floor before extending back into the hallway where the rooms were.

"This is a cabin." House muttered through Cuddy's hair as he leaned into her.

"A cabin _resort_." Cuddy pulled her ear away from House's mouth, "It's not that bad."

"You've stayed here before?" House asked her.

"No..." Cuddy's eyes met House's, "I knew it was a log cabin so I looked it up online. You're not the only one who was worried."

House laughed to himself. "It's... nice. Cozy. Especially with the dead animals everywhere."

A large man in navy blue pants and a striped button down shirt, clearly wearing his only dress clothes as a means to impress doctors, walked over to Cuddy and House.

"Ah, Dr. Cuddy, Dr. House, welcome." he extended a hand, which Cuddy shook, and then he gave them both their keys, "You have rooms 13 and 14. Would you like someone to help you with your bags?"

"That won't be necessary for me." Cuddy smiled at the man and then turned slightly, "House?"

"Is this place cripple accessible?" House asked the man, glaring a bit in his intimidating manner that often turned people off of him.

"Yes, of course." the man was a bit taken aback, "We do have an elevator if you choose to take it instead of the stairs."

"Does it look like I would _enjoy_ taking the stairs?" House asked, raising his head slightly.

The man thought for an uncomfortably long moment, "No... the elevator is over there."

Cuddy smiled at the man again, feeling sorry for him because he was trying to be nice and received House in return. As she walked with House toward the elevators, she moved closer to him.

"You didn't have to be mean." Cuddy scolded.

"What?" House asked, swinging out his cane and suitcase, making an 'isn't it obvious' statement, "I'm a cripple!"

"You're only going to be able to get away with that excuse for so long." Cuddy jammed her finger into the elevator button.

"Right." House agreed, sarcasm coming through, "Until my leg gets better. Oh wait, that's never going to happen."

The elevator doors opened and Cuddy stepped in first, cutting House off. House followed her in and pressed the button for the second floor. Once the elevator doors were closed, House turned to Cuddy.

"Wanna make out?" House asked.

Cuddy gave him "the look" and then faced forward. House began making popping sounds with his mouth. The elevator stopped and the doors slid open, much to Cuddy's relief. She led the way off the elevator, once again cutting in front of House. Cuddy glanced at the room numbers painted on the doors until finally she reached room thirteen. House stopped next to her and pointed to the room across from hers.

"Right across the hall." House said, "Perfect for late night sex."

"House..." Cuddy warned.

"What?" House leaned into Cuddy as if he couldn't hear her, then projected his voice for the entire hall, "You're going to fire me, DR. CUDDY, if I don't have SEX with you?"

"That's not funny, House." Cuddy's voice was low and stern, indicating to House that he hit a nerve.

House smirked and turned, unlocking his room quickly and entering inside. Cuddy awkwardly smiled at the other guests who had turned to stare when House made his scene. Cuddy groaned softly, put the key into the lock of her own room, and then disappeared inside.


	2. Getting Lost

**Thank you so much for the enthusiasm behind this! I hope to not disappoint. Here's the next chapter. Please enjoy! And... enter drama...**

* * *

"House!" Cuddy was pounding a tight fist against House's room door, "Are you ready to go yet? House!"

The door flung open, revealing House in jeans, a blue button up shirt over a white tee, and a jacket, "Calm down, Cruella, I don't think you've scared enough puppies yet."

Cuddy glared, "I wanted to get there early. Everyone else in this damn resort is at the conference already. They took the shuttle bus down. Now, we'll have to take a cab because _you _weren't ready and we'll probably be late. Thank you, _House_."

House ignored Cuddy's statement and exited his room, popping a vicodin in his mouth while grabbing his cane. Cuddy moved out of House's way as he shut his door and made sure it was locked. He faced Cuddy.

"Getting there at this time shows you what kind of people they are." House said and took off down the hall towards the elevator, Cuddy following behind.

"And what kind of people are they?" Cuddy asked, folding her arms across her chest once they were waiting outside the elevator.

House looked at her and leaned in, whispering, "You know."

The elevator doors slid open and House stepped in followed by Cuddy, who pushed the down button.

"Right." Cuddy agreed, with a roll of her eyes, "Of course. You don't like anyone."

"Not what I said." House replied.

They waited another moment before the elevator stopped and the doors slid open. House led the way into the lobby. Cuddy looked around, noting the resort was, in fact, empty. She looked towards the front desk and noticed the man from yesterday was gone, too. She figured he must have been at lunch.

"People were having sex above my head last night." House said as he walked out the front door.

"House, we're on the second floor." Cuddy told him, "There aren't any rooms above ours."

House cocked his head to the side, "Must have been a very _wonderful_ dream then."

Cuddy made a face at House, which he missed. House stopped and quickly spun around, Cuddy almost running into him.

"Let's take a walk." House looked over to the edge of the woods and pointed with his cane.

Cuddy's eyes followed his gesture, "A woman who despises nature and a man with a bum leg are going to take a walk in the woods? That makes complete sense."

"Ah, come on, Cuddy." House punched her lightly in the arm, trying his best to be charming, which Cuddy saw right through, "Live a little."

"Uh, no." Cuddy shook her head with an uncomfortable smile.

"Please?" House mocked a pout.

"No, House." Cuddy replied, sternly.

"Fine." House shrugged and took off towards the woods.

"House." Cuddy knew the tone in her voice wasn't going to stop him, "A cab should be on its way right now. You'll fall trying to walk through there. House!"

Cuddy sighed and threw up her arms, exasperated. Flinging her purse over her shoulder, she hurried after House until she was alongside of him.

"Oh, so you're accompanying me?" House glanced at Cuddy as he walked over twigs and rocks on no set path.

"What are you trying to prove?" Cuddy asked him, struggling on the terrain in her heels.

"Nothing." House answered the question innocently enough. Cuddy didn't feel like playing his game.

"If you didn't want to go to the conference, you should have just told me instead of torturing me by making me follow you through the woods." Cuddy's frustration came out through her voice, "I told you that you could've backed out."

"If I would have backed out," House started, a smirk on his face, "It would have ruined this awe inspiring moment with nature."

"I thought I was doing a nice gesture for you." Cuddy was struggling and slipping on fallen leaves and branches, "I thought you would've liked to hear about impossible and unsolvable cases solved by other crazy people like yourself."

"Why would I want to be sitting there listening to their egos?" House kept his quick pace up, knowing Cuddy was having a hard time behind him, "I have an ego of my own that I could be putting to good use making diagnoses back in Jersey."

Cuddy stopped for a moment, winded, and wiped the sweat forming on her forehead with the sleeve of her jacket, "I guess that's a good point."

"Yep." House jammed the end of his cane into the ground.

"You could have said no if it was so important for you to stay at the hospital, House." Cuddy sighed and hurried to catch up alongside House, tired of talking to his backside, "Can we go back now? We're going to get lost." Cuddy opened her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She glanced it over before dropping it back in her purse, "And we don't have any reception. Getting lost would be fantastic."

"We're not-" House was cut off when the pain in his leg caused him to misstep. Before he could get himself balanced, he slid with his good leg on a mixture of leaves and dirt and fell hard, rolling and skidding a bit down the slight slope.

Cuddy cried out, hurrying after House, trying not to fall as well in her high heels. She tripped on a rock, but regained her balance and stopped at House's side as he laid on the ground, facing the sky.

"Are you okay?" Cuddy leaned down and extended her hand.

House checked out Cuddy's breasts, which were now more obvious since she was bending over towards him. After he got a good look, he used his cane to stand on his own, ignoring Cuddy's hand. Cuddy, seeing this gesture as a complete snub, pulled her hand back and placed it on her hip, acting as if she had never thought of the kindness to extend it.

"I'm fine." House finally answered Cuddy's question once he was standing, "Maybe we should go back."

House brushed by Cuddy, who was still partially insulted by his hand snub when she was just trying to help. Cuddy followed after House and decided not to let him affect her.

"I told you this wasn't a good-." Cuddy stopped, mid sentence, cut off by something she was unsure of.

House was whacking bushes and branches loudly out of his way with his cane and he didn't stop walking, but merely called back "Wasn't a good what?"

When Cuddy didn't answer, House stopped, thinking this was some sort of power play. He turned to see Cuddy standing incredibly still, her hands clutching her abdomen. A look that was a cross between confusion and intrigue crossed House's face. Cuddy was staring down at her hands and pulled them away from herself, revealing her hands and the pink shirt under her jacket were covered in blood. House stared at the blood and then watched as Cuddy fell to the ground.


	3. Nearly Accidental

**Again, thanks for the crazy awesome feedback. I just love making drama fics. Anyway... here's the next part. Enjoy!**

* * *

House hurried to Cuddy and lowered himself, quite painfully, to her side. She was unconscious. House figured she hit her head when she hit the ground. House leveled her so she was flat on her back and he pushed the sides of her jacket back. He lifted her shirt, exposing her midriff, a small hole was on her upper left side. It was bleeding profusely. House quickly took off his jacket, about to take off his shirt as well, but instead took off Cuddy's jacket and shirt. He threw her jacket aside and then wadded up her already bloodied shirt, placing it over the wound and pressing down hard without once looking at her breasts.

After glancing Cuddy over quickly, he pulled her by the shoulder onto her side. He leaned over her, examining her back and noting there was no exit wound. The bullet from the apparent gunshot wound was somewhere inside Cuddy.

A branch snapped. House turned his head to the noise, "Who's there?"

An overweight, balding man in camouflage with hunting rifle stepped out from behind some trees. He was smiling, but his face fell once his eyes landed on Cuddy.

"You shot her." House accused.

The man looked horrified, "I thought I saw a deer. I... didn't know."

"Does she _look _like a deer?" House turned his head slightly, annoyed.

"No... I..." the man's face paled. He was about to be sick, "I'm sorry."

"Do you have a cell phone?" House was agitated. He could hardly believe this was happening.

"No, they don't work in these woods." the man shook his head, "There's no cell phone towers around here."

"Well, do you have any way of contacting help?" House could feel the shirt dampening beneath his hands, "A walkie talkie?"

"Don't carry one." the man was now even paler and possibly turning green.

"You don't carry one?" House repeated, "What would you do if you were shot?"

The man cleared his throat and spoke as if it were obvious, "I wouldn't accidentally shoot myself."

"I didn't mean accidentally." House made eye contact with the man.

"Is she gonna be all right?" the man asked, clearly not understanding House's last statement.

"Not if she dies." House answered with a sigh, irritated with this man, "There's a cabin resort just up that way. It's where we came from. Go there and get help. Call an ambulance."

"The nearest hospital is probably a half hour from here." the man was staring at Cuddy, "It'll take 'em a while."

"It'll take them even longer if you don't get up there and call!" House was yelling at the man, who seemed to shrink back.

"I'll go right now." the man was nodding, "I'll-- I'll wait there for the ambulance."

The man began walking in the direction House indicated. He was visibly shaking as he stumbled across the dirt and twigs. House shook his head.

"Run!" he yelled to the man, who took off like a rocket and was soon out of sight.

House looked back down to his hands, which were covered in blood. Cuddy's pink shirt only had a tuft of pink left to it. The rest was stained deep red. House looked to Cuddy's face. He had to wake her. He had to know where it hurt, how much, and if there were any other problems.

"Cuddy." House said, quite loudly, then shouted, "Lisa!"

No movement. House lifted his hand and smacked Cuddy's cheek. She still didn't respond. House's brow furrowed. He lifted one of her eyelids with his thumb. She flinched away from him. Then, opened her eyes.

"Oooowww." Cuddy whined in House's direction, "What happened?"

"Some idiot shot you." House answered. He lifted Cuddy's wadded up shirt and blood continued to flow. He cursed under his breath.

"How long was I out for?" Cuddy asked, trying not to look down at the blood.

"Five minutes." House told her, "Six. Where does it hurt?"

"Where I'm shot." Cuddy's tone was anything, but pleasant.

"Anywhere else, _Cuddy_?" House pressed the shirt down harder on the wound causing Cuddy to cry out in pain.

"What... is wrong with... you?" Cuddy spat out between breaths.

"Just wanted to know if it hurt anywhere else." House replied.

"You-" Cuddy was cut off as she started to cough. She placed a hand over her mouth and half gagged, half coughed while House watched, releasing some of the pressure on the wound.

Cuddy took a deep breathe after her coughing fit, causing some pain to the wound. She pulled her hand away and stared at the blood on her hand. With a terrified look on her face, she turned to House, who was still watching her.

"Not the lungs." House shook his head, "The stomach. Hopefully, it's stuck in there. No exit wound. The bullet might have ricocheted or went through a tree first."

Cuddy stared at House, "Is it bad?"

House didn't answer right away, which scared Cuddy more than getting a straight answer. House looked back down at Cuddy's wadded up shirt, "If it doesn't stop bleeding. The idiot who shot you said the hospital was a half hour away."

"How long has it been?" Cuddy asked.

"Nine minutes." House told her.

"Who was this idiot?" Cuddy was staring at the trees above her, wishing she was anywhere but here, "What did he say?"

"He thought you were a deer." House said, noting the paleness that had taken over Cuddy's face.

"Yeah, 'cause we look so much alike." Cuddy rolled her eyes. Sometimes she couldn't understand how people could be so stupid.

Suddenly, Cuddy couldn't breathe. She felt a liquid in her throat, clogging her throat. She was coughing and gagging once again, trying to clear the liquid that was threatening to harm her. House quickly pulled Cuddy towards him. Cuddy kept her head raised off the ground as she threw up blood. When she was certain she was finished, she rested her head down. House gently set her onto her back.

"Let me know the next time you're going to drown yourself in your own blood." House said, but suddenly wished he didn't. He pulled out his pills, "Wanna vicodin?"

"It must be bad if you're offering me your vicodin." Cuddy joked through teeth gritted in pain. It felt like someone had tried to tear her apart, only they miserably failed in their attempt to succeed in that conquest.

"At least we can say we've both been shot now." House tried to go along with Cuddy's attitude of lightening the current situation.

"Except mine was accidental." Cuddy retorted and laughed just enough to keep from crying.

Cuddy groaned, wriggling beneath House's hands as they remained pressing down on her. He watched the pain in her face and almost felt sick himself. For a second, the thought that she could die crossed his mind. But, it was gone just as quickly as he vowed he wasn't going to let her.


	4. Surveillance

**I wasn't sure when this next part was going to be up because this week is very hectic for me. However, I found myself typing away into the wee hours of the morning, so... here ya go! And thank you for all your fabulous comments. They made my hectic week not seem so bad. Enjoy!!!  
**

* * *

_Cuddy was standing somewhere far from here. It was just after midnight and as she left the hospital, silent snowfall caught itself in her hair, in her eyelashes, kissing her face as she walked towards her car. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself. Someone cleared their throat behind her. She stopped, knowing who caused the sound without needing to turn around._

_He sidestepped her, quite easily and she cocked a worried eyebrow in his direction hoping he wouldn't fall on the wet sidewalk that was beginning to freeze. She made a mental note to call maintenance to salt it before someone fell and sued._

_He smiled, pleased with himself and held a sprig of green hanging off a thin piece of brown, "Mistletoe. It's been Christmas for seven minutes."_

"_You tore that off the bush by the entrance." Cuddy narrowed her eyes, "And you hate Christmas."_

"_You're right." he leaned in closer to her, tossing the branch behind him, "On both accounts. Kiss still viable?"_

_Cuddy pondered him a moment, leaned in, and kissed him ever so gently on the lips, her gloved hands resting on his coat. He was surprised that she had agreed when he was expecting a snide retort. He smirked._

"_Merry Christmas, House." Cuddy smiled and then moved past him towards her car._

Cuddy flinched. She was being jabbed in the leg. And it hurt. She forced her eyes open and looked in the direction of House, who was watching her.

"Still with me?" House asked, his hands still atop the wadded shirt that rested over the wound.

"Unfortunately." Cuddy replied, rolling her eyes.

"You look like shit, by the way." House told her, not willing to take her attitude even if she was lying before him bleeding out.

"You don't have to stay." Cuddy said, knowing full well he wasn't going to leave her, "You can limp yourself out of here. Unless you want to drag me to some creek somewhere that I don't want to go to and see if I get electrocuted or something else just as asinine."

"Hey, _I_ didn't shoot the gun." House emphasized, unintentionally putting extra pressure on the gunshot wound.

Cuddy squirmed, "But, if you had just agreed to go to the convention-"

"Oh, quit the guilt, Cuddy." House cut her off, irritated, "It's not my fault you look like a deer."

Cuddy's mouth fell open, taking personal offense, "I do _not_ look like deer."

House shrugged and Cuddy wished she could smack that innocent expression off of his face. The expression that cried out that he had nothing to do with this. However, House knew quite well that even if he didn't shoot the gun and even if Cuddy did look like a deer, he was still the one to lead the march through the woods, making him partially to blame. Though, he would never admit it. At least not to Cuddy. At least not now.

"How long has it been?" Cuddy asked once she noticed that House had seemed to space out. She needed him back here with her. She couldn't keep somewhat calm with his thoughts far from her.

"Fourteen minutes." House answered without looking at his watch. He didn't need to. He had just checked it forty one seconds ago. And he would check it again in another twenty two.

Cuddy was quiet for a moment. Her eyes appeared closed and House was about to jab her again when she looked at him.

"Do you think he called for help?" Cuddy asked, showing the weaker side of herself.

"If he didn't, you won't be the only one with a gunshot wound." House replied, giving her a side glance as he scanned the woods, hoping the mention of the man would suddenly bring him back with paramedics.

"He probably ran." Cuddy said, her optimism of making it out alive fading fast, "If you shot someone and had to call for medical help, which would inevitably get you involved with the law, wouldn't you just run instead?"

"I'd never be stupid enough to shoot a person." House answered in the only way he knew how. He often found it hard to answer questions hypothetically when the people in said questions were usually morons.

"I might run." Cuddy told him, her voice cracked slightly.

House shook his head, almost disappointed, "No, you wouldn't. You may accidently shoot someone with the firearms you don't own, but you'd never run. The Cuddy I know doesn't run."

"The Cuddy you know is scared, House." Cuddy let out a breath she was holding, hoping releasing it would help release her rising fear. It didn't. "Greg..."

House rolled his eyes, "Don't 'Greg' me, Cuddy. You're not going to die. Knock it off with the General Hospital crap."

"I thought you liked the General Hospital crap." Cuddy frowned in House's direction, but was feeling nauseous, so she tried not to make too much eye movement to avoid making her feel even worse.

"The shoddy dialogue and heavily, or _heavenly_ if you wish, breasted nurses are entertaining." House replied, "The drama laced plots and deathbed scenes- not so much."

"Sorry." Cuddy apologized, attempting to put a smile on her face which came off as a grimace.

House's face fell watching her. He looked away, his mind turning, debating if what he was thinking was a good idea. He glanced back up at Cuddy. She had her eyes closed again and House jabbed her hard in the leg, causing her eyes to fly back open and shoot daggers at him. He shrugged.

"We can't have you unconscious, can we?" House asked, "Who else would approve and respond to my witty comments and high intelligence, hm?"

"House..." Cuddy swallowed hard, "I'm not feeling well..."

House raised his head a bit, "You were shot, Cuddy. I think you'd be damn near bionic to be feeling 'well' at the given moment."

"I feel dizzy." Cuddy was trying to focus her eyes, "The trees won't stop spinning."

Cuddy closed her eyes again. House jabbed her once more. She opened her eyes and looked to him, this time, defeated. House shook his head, sympathizing with Cuddy.

"You can't close your eyes." House told her, a softness in his tone, "You need to stay here, awake, with me."

"That was nice." Cuddy nodded slightly, but was unsure if she was speaking the words or thinking them, "That was _almost_ good bedside manner. Why can't you do that at the hospital?"

"Because I'm at the hospital." House answered her question as if it was quite the obvious answer.

"Maybe we should move you and your team to the woods then." Cuddy quipped and then asked quickly, "Am I sweating? I feel like I'm sweating. I am sweating, right?"

Cuddy's worried eyes were on House. House merely nodded in response to her questions, his mind back to his previous plan. He looked Cuddy over, noting the sweat on her forehead, her dizziness, the sense he received that she was starting to disconnect. House knew what would be coming next. He needed to stop the bleeding. He knew of only one way how.

"You need to hand me your purse." House told Cuddy, his cold and collected professional self taking over.

Cuddy's brows drew together, "What?"

"That little black thing you keep your dark womanly secrets in." House directed his eyes to the handbag on the other side of Cuddy, which rested a few inches from her arm, "Hand it over."

"Why?" Cuddy eyed him up. She may have been starting to zone out, but she recognized that gleam in House's eyes that signaled he was going to do something to which she was definitely _not_ going to approve.

"You'll be going into shock if you continue to lose blood." House explained calmly, "I'm going to be using whatever I can from your purse to cut you open and sew you up to stop the bleeding. _Now_... hand the purse over."


	5. Tolerance

**Thanks again to everyone who's been reading and reviewing! It helps me get through my stressful college days. Anyway, enjoy this next part. And I'm aiming for there to be about two more chapters. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Cuddy stared, unsure if she heard him correctly, "You're going to _what_?"

"You're sweating, pale, dizzy." House stated, "Feel like taking a rest, Cuddy? Slipping into the unconscious? If I don't stop the bleeding, that'll be the next stop on the train to death."

Cuddy reached toward the purse and clutched it tightly. It took some effort but she managed to lob it over to House, hitting him in the shoulder with it.

"Think you could scare me a little more, House?" Cuddy asked, sickened.

"That's how I get most of my patients to agree to testing and surgery." House was unzipping Cuddy's purse quickly.

"Don't tell me that." Cuddy sighed, now annoyed.

House looked up, "Doesn't matter. You might be dead soon."

Cuddy frowned as House went back to digging through her purse. She closed her eyes against the pain and swallowed hard. She felt something sharp poke her thigh. Her eyes flung open and toward House.

"House!" Cuddy scolded, "Could you _please _stop doing that?"

"Only if you'll stop closing your eyes." House replied. He held up a pair of tweezers, then set them on top of Cuddy's jeans, near the waistline.

Cuddy watched as House pulled out nail clippers and tissues, which he also set aside. He brought out a spool of thread with a needle stuck in between strands of thread, tightly and conveniently placed. House looked to Cuddy, quizzically.

"Sometimes my hems come undone." Cuddy explained and not too happy about it.

"Or the buttons pop off those tight blouses you wear." House replied and set the spool with the rest of his collection.

"You're really going to do this?" Cuddy asked, watching House still dig through her purse.

House pulled out a travel size bottle of hand sanitizer, "Yep."

"You don't even know what's wrong, House." Cuddy told him, "And how are you suppose to cut me open? And what about the pain?"

House pulled out two tampons. He held them up, "You're not menstruating."

Cuddy looked away from him, embarrassed, "I always carry them just in case."

"Always prepared." House raised his eyebrows and set the tampons on her jeans, "Boy Scout Cuddy. Maybe this will get you your wilderness patch."

Cuddy sneered in House's direction, but was feeling weaker. Her vision blurred slightly and panic began to rise in her, the fear of dying here, in the middle of the woods, coming back to her. House scanned over his items, picked one up, and placed it on the ground before smashing it with a rock. Cuddy snapped back to attention.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cuddy asked, trying to see what House was smashing.

House picked up half of the nail clippers he just broke and doused it with hand sanitizer. He then removed Cuddy's bloodied shirt and threw it aside.

"This might hurt a bit." House squirted hand sanitizer on the bullet wound, causing Cuddy to squirm, the burning subsiding after a few moments.

"House..." Cuddy was shaking her head, "Please, don't do this."

"Either I do this or you'll die. I think we both know what the obvious decision is." House's eyes were on Cuddy's and then he looked away and began cleaning the utensils he would use before finishing with cleaning his hands.

House looked back at Cuddy, who had been watching him the whole time, eyebrows drawn in worry and anticipation.

"House..." Cuddy was practically begging, tears beginning to cloud her eyes.

House frowned, feeling a slight pang, which he quickly ignored, "Cuddy, I am doing this whether you want me to or not. If there's any way to save your life, this is it. You're scared so you don't want me to do this, but it is the only way to keep you alive until we get to a hospital."

Cuddy's bottom lip quivered and she looked away from House, knowing he was right. She hated that he always ended up being right. Cuddy began to wheeze, having an intense fear to run and escape, the sudden lack of oxygen causing her lightheadedness to worsen.

"Hey." House nodded to Cuddy, trying to get her attention. When she didn't look at him, he spoke louder, making sure to be heard over her anxiety attack, "Cuddy, breathe. You're not going to help yourself focusing on all of this. I want you to focus on me, over here. Cuddy. Damn it, look at me!"

Cuddy turned her head towards House. She looked him over, slowly, outlining his every detail. His very wrinkled brow, the blood on his shirt, the dirt on his jeans. Cuddy's breathing began to regulate and she spoke quietly.

"How long has it been?"

House checked his watch, "Nineteen minutes."

"Okay." Cuddy replied.

"You need to collect saliva in your mouth." House said and then added to Cuddy's confused look, "Don't swallow anymore spit."

"Why?" Cuddy asked, but doing what he said.

House turned his back to her, whistling an upbeat tune. Cuddy tried to watch, but it was harder for her to focus. She could hear a crunching, a possible grinding sound, but she couldn't identify its true source. After a moment, House faced her, one hand hiding something.

"I love you." House said.

Cuddy opened her mouth to reply and the hand with the hidden something sprung towards her, revealing the vicodin bottle. House dumped all of his now crushed vicodin pills in Cuddy's mouth and pressed her mouth shut. The coarse powder mixed with her saliva and she had no choice but to swallow it.

"Funny." House commented, pulling his hand away, "That worked on Cameron, too."

Cuddy was worried, "How much did you just give me?"

"Enough to knock you out, near death probably." House replied, watching Cuddy intently, "But, don't worry. They don't make Ipecac for nothing."

"You gave me enough to overdose?" Cuddy hissed at him.

House cocked his head, annoyed, "You're not going to overdose, Cuddy. I know what I'm doing, oh ye of little faith."

"It's hard to have faith in anything when you're lying on the ground with a gunshot wound." Cuddy retorted.

"It's harder to have faith when you gave the last of your vicodin to someone so unappreciative." House responded, widening his eyes at her.

"How long has it been?" Cuddy asked in desperation, changing the subject and hoping that time had somehow miraculously passed in the means of giving hope that an ambulance would be there soon.

"Twenty one minutes." House replied, "And in another four, I'll be cutting you open."


	6. Decision

**I was actually going to post this sometime tomorrow, but since I enjoyed House so much tonight, I decided to post early. Heehee... Anyway, thanks again for all the reviews! They keep me upbeat and writing. :o)**

* * *

House carefully threaded the eye of the needle. He had doubled the thread, hoping it would be stronger that way. Occasionally he would jab Cuddy in the thigh to make sure she was still awake. She would respond with annoyance. Once he was done threading the needle, he carefully placed it on Cuddy's jeans next to the other utensils.

Cuddy began to hum. House turned to look at her. He stared. Cuddy was still humming and finally she looked at him. She smiled, almost embarrassed. House sized her up.

"How are you?" House asked, giving a nod in her direction.

"I can't really feel." Cuddy was extremely light headed at this point. She repressed a giggle. "No wonder you like Vicodin, House. Why do I ever try to take it away from you?"

"Exactly my point," House replied.

Cuddy rested her head on the ground, staring up at the sky. The trees were moving, but there was no wind. Cuddy tried to focus and blinked hard, hoping it would help, but it didn't. House was still watching her, knowing the drugs were well into effect.

"House..." Cuddy spoke and lobbed her head over in his direction. "This is... ridiculous, you know. Giving me your... stupid... it's..."

"You might not want to say too much and accidentally confess your love for me," House told her, raising his eyebrows. He almost laughed at Cuddy's behavior, but the thought of actually performing surgery kept him from doing so.

"Your stubbly," Cuddy said and smiled, her pain disappearing. She became serious. "It's hot. Like, really, really hot, House."

"Seriously, Cuddy, shut up," House advised.

"You know who's kind of cute if I was, like, all, like, younger because I'm personally interested in guys my age or older, but if I _was_ younger, you know who would, like, be great?" Cuddy asked, seeing three to four Houses staring at her. "Dr. Chase. I mean, like, all the hair... and the accent. He's not really my type to engage in a long relationship with, but sometimes when I'm feeling almost sort of horn-"

"Cuddy." House cut Cuddy off. "As entertaining as it is to hear about your sexual fantasies, I don't very much care unless they're about me."

"Oh," Cuddy replied seriously, then laughed before stopping quickly due to pain. "Ow."

House took in a breath and looked to his watch. Cuddy stared at him, her mouth open. She closed and opened her mouth a few times, it was feeling dry. She left it hang open again, her eyes still on House, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts.

"How long habbit been?" Cuddy asked, eyebrows furrowing. "What did I just say?"

"It's just about time," House replied to her, even though it was already a minute later than when he told her he would start. He was stalling.

"I can't feel my mouth," Cuddy announced and chewed on her bottom lip. She stopped just as quickly as she started and felt a sudden wash of tiredness. She rested her head.

House reached down and picked up the broken nail clippers. Cuddy reached out for him, her hand grabbing House's forearm with much accuracy. She stopped his arm from moving, which drew House's eyes to meet hers.

"I trust you," Cuddy said to him before her eyes shut, the drugs taking over her completely.

Cuddy's hand slipped from House's arm and fell alongside herself. House suddenly felt very alone at Cuddy's quick departure from the conscious world. He leaned over towards her, placing a cupped hand over her nose and mouth. He felt the warmth of her breath on his palm. He was relieved that he hadn't caused her to overdose. At least, not yet. Even though he was quite certain she would be okay, he knew he couldn't be one hundred percent positive.

House reached over for a tissue. He set the nail clipper piece down and leaned toward Cuddy's face. Gingerly opening her mouth slightly, he placed the tissue against her lips, and pressed it upon her top teeth. He removed his hand and watched. The tissue moved in slightly as she breathed in and puffed out slightly on her exhale. House nodded, the tissue being the only means to know if she was still breathing. He hoped it would be enough.

House moved back to his original place and picked up the broken half of nail clipper again. He placed it at the wound, nervous. He had to do this for Cuddy. He listened hard for any sound of movement, any signal of approaching help. There was none. He pressed the sharp edge of the clipper against her skin and pulled it across, only slightly cutting her.

For a second, House thought he heard Cuddy make a noise. He looked to her face, expecting it to be contorted in pain, but it remained passive. The tissue puffed out, then sucked in quickly. House swallowed hard and continued on. It took him a few tries before he had the area cut open just enough to see and extract a bullet. He would have wished for more room to work with, but knew the risk of infection was great if he pushed his luck.

The was blood clogging his vision. He picked up a tampon and pushed the wad of cotton out of it, placing it against the incision, absorbing the blood. Placing his fingers in the incision, he located the stomach, peering at it and seeing the bullet half lodged into her stomach, an opening around it, the bullet having caused tearing on its entry. House picked up the tweezers quickly and extracted the bullet. He removed the first cotton wad and picked up the other tampon, taking out the cotton in it and placing it against the incision as well, soaking up the fresh blood after having removed the bullet.

House placed the bullet on Cuddy's jeans along with the tweezers. He picked up the needle which he had previously double threaded and leaned in close to Cuddy. He removed the second wad of cotton and began carefully stitching up the gentle tissue of Cuddy's stomach. He had to be particularly careful, he knew, because the needle was long and he couldn't risk accidently puncturing anything else.

There was sweat lining his brow. He paused, wiping his forehead with his arm, streaking Cuddy's blood across it. He regained his focus and let out a breath before continuing. It was tedious and his hand shook for a moment, but he pulled himself together and finished stitching her stomach. He glanced to the tissue, watching for its movement. When it did, he moved on to sewing her skin up, not allowing her to remain cut open on the forest floor.

The second set of stitches made to Cuddy's skin weren't as tight as the ones House made to her stomach. Once they reached the hospital, the doctors were going to cut the thread anyway. The stitching was only to temporarily stop the bleeding and nothing more. With quick precision, House finished stitching Cuddy. He pulled the needle from the thread and let the extra thread hang over her skin.

Carefully, House picked up each of the utensils he used and returned them into Cuddy's purse. He held the bullet in his hand for a moment before pocketing it. He looked back to Cuddy's face and made sure she was still breathing. She was. House picked up a few tissues and placed them over the stitches. When he was certain he did all he could, he leaned back on his heels, looking Cuddy over.

She was pale to the point of appearing sickeningly ill. There was blood on her midriff and it had stained her bra. House peered down at the blood on his covered hands. He wiped them quickly on the parts of his shirt that were not already stained with blood. He then lowered himself next to Cuddy as he pulled the tissue out of her mouth and threw it aside.

House gently placed his head on her chest, his ear coming in contact with the skin that was losing its warmth. He listened as the beating of her heart filled his ear. He then extended a hand and let it cup over her mouth and nose. House relaxed himself, knowing full well he would remain in that exact position until help arrived, monitoring her breathing with his palm, while he listened to her chest, making sure her heart never stopped beating.


	7. Conclusion

**Ah, my dear friends... This is the last chapter****. Thank you for all the feedback and thanks to everyone who had stuck by from beginning to end! I'm so glad this fic was well received. Thanks, again! And enjoy the last installment. :o)  
**

* * *

House had regulated his breathing to match Cuddy's as the minutes passed. It was the only thing to keep him focused and occupy his mind so he didn't think about the possibility that no one would be coming. He knew that if there was a slight change in her breathing or heart rate, he would immediately dive into a new plan of transporting Cuddy's body to the resort. 

There was the sound of rustling and an echo. House picked up his head, scanning the surrounding area, stopping at any sight of movement. Someone was out there.

"Hello?"

The voice was getting closer. And another voice. House felt immensely relieved.

"Help!" House called out. "Over here!"

"We're coming!" A voice shouted back. "Keep talking."

"Over here!" House repeated. "We're over here!"

House saw a flash of blue through the trees. Two male paramedics came into view, carrying a collapsed stretcher as they hurried through the woods. The man in camouflage followed after. House painfully forced himself to his feet, cane in hand.

The two paramedics gave House a quick greeting and set the stretcher down next to Cuddy. One checked her pulse and pulled oxygen from his backpack. He placed the oxygen mask over Cuddy's mouth. The other paramedic checked out Cuddy's injury. When he saw the stitches, he glanced up at House.

"What happened here?" The paramedic asked.

"That idiot shot her." House indicated the man. "She was losing too much blood. I had to sew her up to stop the bleeding... I'm a doctor by the way."

"Oh," the paramedic replied and then helped to lift Cuddy on to the stretcher.

On the count of three, the two paramedics lowered the wheels to the stretcher, deciding it was best to try and push the stretcher through the terrain, rather than try to carry her and risk falling. House bent down and picked up his jacket, which he slid on. He next picked up Cuddy's jacket and her purse. He debated taking her bloodied shirt, but decided against it. He didn't care all that much about biohazardous materials being left in nature.

Once House was ready to follow after the paramedics, he looked up to see the man in camouflage staring at him.

"What?" House asked him, angrily.

"You... you really operated on her?" The man's eyes wouldn't make eye contact due to his nervousness of talking to House.

"It was that or else she would have died," House answered and limped past the man. House stopped and turned. "You might want to follow me. The cops will have some questions."

"I know." The man nodded and began to walk after House.

House stopped again and turned to the man once more. The man stopped and retracted, afraid of what House was going to say to him next.

"Thank you," House spoke sincerely, looking the man in the eye.

The man was taken aback by House's gratitude. House turned back around and headed in the direction of the resort, following after the paramedics. He didn't talk to the man again.

* * *

Cuddy opened her eyes slowly, a white hospital room focusing into view. Her head felt fuzzy and she groaned against the harsh lighting in the room.

"I didn't kill you."

Cuddy turned her head in the direction of the voice. House was seated in a chair next to her hospital bed. He was wearing a clean shirt, but appeared scruffier than usual.

"Did you..." Cuddy pulled up her blankets, looking for some sort of indication that House had operated on her. However, she didn't feel like lifting her hospital gown so she replaced the blankets and looked back to House for the answer.

"I have the bullet if you want it." House reached into his pocket and extracted the piece of metal that was still partially stained with blood.

"I don't want that." Cuddy shook her head at him.

"Shucks." House threw it in the air and caught it. "I thought you would have wanted to keep a little souvenir of something that almost killed you."

"I'm sure the scar is souvenir enough, House," Cuddy replied, cocking an eyebrow in his direction. "Where's the guy?"

"Idiot who shot you?" House asked, clarifying. "He's chatting it up with some lawyers and cops right now. But, if you want to see him, I'm sure we can give him a call and-"

"House," Cuddy warned.

"No?" House acted surprised.

"So... I'm better now, right?" Cuddy was almost afraid that her luck of being alive was too good to be true.

"Well, you did have the _best_ surgeon in the world," House replied. "And in case your brain is too hopped up on painkillers to understand, I mean me."

Speaking of drugs, House reminded himself to pop a Vicodin, which he did. Cuddy stared at him, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Where did you get those?" Cuddy asked, curiously.

"We _are_ in a hospital, Cuddy, lest you forget." House told her, but changed the subject. "I called up Princeton-Plainsboro for you. Told everyone some idiot wanted to put your head on a mantel. Wilson was worried, Cameron was concerned, Foreman didn't care, and Chase said "Dr. Cuddy who?" but he's an Aussie, so he'll have to be excused. He's been 'down under' too long."

"You're funny, House," Cuddy replied and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay." House raised a hand. "You got me. Wilson wasn't worried, he cried like a baby."

That got Cuddy to laugh, which made House smile in spite of himself. Cuddy stopped laughing quickly though, a pain at the sight of her injury.

"Careful," House warned, his warning laced with sarcasm. "Don't want you to rip those pretty little stitches out. I might have to fix you and the closest thing I have to thread is a pack of floss. It's spearmint and it'll probably burn."

"Why are you carrying around floss?" Cuddy stared at him, wondering if he was lying to her or not.

House shrugged. "Have you ever seen _Pretty Woman_?"

Cuddy narrowed her eyes.

"You shouldn't neglect your gums," House quoted.

"It scares me that you know that, House," Cuddy replied, hiding a smile. She paused and took in a breath. "Thank you."

"For...?" House's forehead wrinkled.

"Saving my life," Cuddy told him. "I guess you have a 'Get Out of Jail Free Card.'"

"I would assume so," House agreed. "Although, I didn't do it for you. You die and some jackass comes in and takes your place and I'm fired in two days. It was really about keeping my job."

"Right." Cuddy nodded slightly.

Cuddy gave House a smile. House didn't smile back, but his eyes displayed the emotion that a smile would have similarly shown. They both understood that House had not done the surgery to save his job.

They wouldn't talk about it much after the fact, but they would often separately recall that day in the woods. Cuddy would always remember it as the time House had actually put someone else before himself, showing that he really did care for at least one other human being. House would always recall it as the only day he had ever said a prayer in his life.

* * *

**Fin. **


End file.
